So, my good lady, ‘The Roobs’ had her Xmas lunch yesterday with her workmates, which soon turned into her Xmas, ‘SMASH ALL THE VODKA DOWN MY FACE’ day.
Quite frankly, this is a thing I can respect, I love smashing things down my dirty, whore throat.. However, here’s some life lessons I’ve learned after picking her up from town drunk, and carrying a massive cheese pizza;

1. She called me to say she was ready to be picked up, giving me roughly 45 seconds to get trousers on and stumble to the car before the phone rings again, and a slurred yet confused voice asked, “Where the hell are you and why aren’t you here yet OH MY GOD why are you taking so long I have pizza did I tell you I have pizza and stuff why aren’t you here yet?”

Well, I’m sorry. The Data Core on my TARDIS was on the blink again.. It’s all Timey Wimey stuff, you wouldn’t understand.

2. She will happily lie to a takeaway man’s face. With not a single fuck given, she will boldly tell that man square in the eye that she’s buying the biggest pizza they have so she can share with her man, so it doesn’t look to this uninterested, complete stranger like she’s planning on throwing it all down her own neck as soon as she can hobble far enough out of the eyeline of the shop..

Yet when I put a hand near the box to take a slice, it gets battered away by an almost Black Belt quality of Karate Chop, whilst she turns to me in disgust shouting, ‘NONE FOR YOU!!’ before covering the box protectively with her body.. Much like Gollum protecting the ring from those tricksy Hobbitses.

3. It’s not all doom and gloom for Scotty’s taste buds though. They at least got within an inch of the cherished and much craved pizza as The Roobs discovers that her fingers are coated in tomato puree, and she simply has nowhere to wipe them.. You know that scene in Predator where Arnie starts coating his face and body in mud, knowing that the Predator won’t see him? Well, it was kind of like that for me, as her fingers rummaged over my face and beard, cleansing themselves of the pureé taint, as it all clung majestically to my facial hair and eye sockets..

4. As I managed to drive on through my tomato induced, red stained vision, we passed by a young man doing the drunken crab walk home, clearly arguing with his legs over which of the bastards should be taking the lead here, and which of them was letting the team down and would be punished when he got back indoors. Suddenly, The Roobs perked up like a Meerkat sensing danger. Her head coming free of the cheese coated, cardboard prison it was currently trying to sook the labels off of.

“LOOK AT THAT FUCKING MAN!! LOOK!!! Why won’t this bastarding window open?!? *slam slam slam* THIS FUCKING BUTTON WON’T OPEN THE WINDOW!! HEY!! MAN!! YOU FUCKING MAN!! WHAT IN THE FU.. MAAAAAAN!!! Aww, we’ve passed him.. You’re gonna have to circle the block and come back around, I haven’t given him nearly enough abusOH LOOK I HAS PIZZA!!” *reburies face in cheesy pizza heaven*

5. Finally, the guilt of withholding pizza from her man overcame her, and with a reluctant pause she lifted a slab of half sooked pizza toward my face asking if I wanted a bit of her treasure. I was still driving, so whilst focusing on the road, I opened my mouth expecting her to place it within. But no. No, that would have been too much like common sense.

Instead, near 2kg of melted, processed cheese and dough was rammed up my nose, and then smooshed all over my face.

Now, you would think that the now smashed up lump of former pizza glory she held in her now re-stained tomato hands would be fit for going out the window, considering it was probably now filled with my snot and loose beard hair.. But no. There was a moments quiet contemplation from The Roobs as I fought to stay on the road, before she threw that whole, soggy snottery mess into her mouth.

6. We’re now only a couple of streets away from home, and we’re travelling down a narrow road with cars parked on our right hand side. Suddenly, a taxi pulls out from a junction up ahead, but decides to pull in to the side of the road to let us pass and continue. As the large, white cab came to a halt we drove onward. However, it seems the bright headlights of the taxi briefly distracted the pizza monster from devouring her prey. As we drew closer I could see the cab driver raise his hand in the common salute to other drivers when you let them pass. The Roobs however gave the poor man a whole other salute entirely. A salute that made his jaw hang open in shock as we passed, and a salute that, if it hadn’t have been for the seatbelt pinning her down, would have been out the sunroof for the full, indignant exposure.

Once the taxi ‘threat’ had passed however, The Roobs returned to the demolition of her pizza. Shoveling lumps of doughy based goodness into her face like an over-enthusiastic zombie cast member chewing a body on The Walking Dead.

And finally number seven, which contains quite possibly the best, loving insult I’ve ever received. As we got into the house, The Roobs finally defeated her pizza foe, and as I was taking off my boots, I turned to her and said, ‘”Wow, you’ve fairly hoovered that pizza!”.

She stopped dead for a second and stared at me like I had just bought a Nickleback CD, before leaning forward slowly and muttering the following..

“Your FACE is a hoovered pizza.”

And with that, she was gone to the bedroom, where clothes were scattered everywhere and many a fart was released that night. I can’t lie, that’s probably the best insult I’ve ever had..

DHB 232

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